Author Topic: Jubal's poems  (Read 155548 times)

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #330 on: October 07, 2023, 03:38:43 PM »
Sunwing
In Sunwing town
    G              Em
The autumn’s shiver learns to sing
        Em                        Am         Em
The song the birds of winter bring
        Em                        Am         Em

The church lies cold
   Em              C
Doesn’t matter now what warmth it knew
             C                                       G
The spire soars in colder skies
Em                 D                 Em
The town that knows, the sun that dies
G                                           C             D

And when will there be a song?
       C                  G              D
Tell me, when will there be a song?
       C                  G              D


In Sunwing town
The autumn’s shiver learns to sing
The song the birds of winter bring

The church lies cold
Doesn’t matter now what warmth it knew
The spire soars in colder skies
The town that knows, the sun that dies

In Sunwing town
The autumn’s shiver learns to sing,
I stand alone, the bells still ring

Still farmland lies
No rooster crows the sun to rise
The roof falls down to bare the eaves,
The apples rot amid the leaves

In Sunwing town
The autumn’s shiver learns to sing,
In notes that bind each lonely thing

The inn is closed
No bed or manger brings repose
The empty barrels sworn upon,
Our gallant echoes gallons gone,

And when will there be a song?
Tell me when will there be a song?

In Sunwing town
Where autumn’s shiver learns to sing
I walk the streets a lonely king

My home is here,
Where autumn sweeps away the year
And still I greet each faded day,
In hope some passer by will choose to stay

In Sunwing town
Where autumn’s shiver learns to sing
Where summer fled upon the wing
Where echo all the songs I bring


This was written as a song from the start, the "In Sunwing town" turned up because I had the line about Bonnington/Bonningtown from Kris Drever's Capernaum stuck in my head and I started switching round the syllables and notes a bit to try and unearworm myself. Then it was sort of a case of stacking imagery up until it felt right, I think. The result is something a bit closer to some of my earlier songwriting: a slightly more spoken, varied-tempo singing style with a bit of Pete Atkin influence and a very image-heavy piece as a whole.
« Last Edit: October 07, 2023, 07:11:56 PM by Jubal »
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #331 on: October 20, 2023, 11:28:07 AM »
Nursery

And so of course you
Pulled the world together of out of threads
Weaving silk to bind person to person
And knowledge to knowledge
And maybe, less admittedly
Hope to hope

Of course you
Pulled the world together out of threads
Because you knew as you grew
That the weavings of spiders
Do not always trap
And bind, and paralyse, waiting for the kill

Of course you
Pulled the world together out of threads
That, woven round in a haze of fen-mist
Can conceal a whole world inside
A nursery
For a coming world and a future year
From which, skywards, new life can step
And from the tops of reeds
Make its first silken thread
That will one day make another nursery
That will never catch a fly or a beetle
But today catches the wind
And connects the world with little web-builders
Floating their way to freedom
And, unafraid,
To things that come anew.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #332 on: October 25, 2023, 11:17:20 PM »
Devotion (Song for Lae'zel)

From the moment I was born upon
                 Em                     G
The firmament of heaven
                 Em                     G
I dreamed silver in my hand
                       G                  C
Silver in my hand
        G           D
And my devotion red and black among the stars.
                 Em                     D                  G       D
From the day I held a blade and heard
                 Em                     G
The roaring of the dragons,
                 Em                     G
It looked like silver in my hand
                       G                  C
Silver in my hand
        G           D
To carve paths of red and black throughout the stars
                 Em                     D                    Em


But devotion is a war
       G                  D
And it brings death like any other
                        Em                      G
It’s a fire that burns like steel,
        Em                             D
And it consumes you like a lover
                        Em                      G
It consumes you like the burning heart of stars.
          G                               D                           Em
From the moment I was born upon
The firmament of heaven
I dreamed silver in my hand
Silver in my hand
And my devotion red and black among the stars.
From the day I held a blade and heard
The roaring of the dragons,
It looked like silver in my hand
Silver in my hand
To carve paths of red and black throughout the stars

But devotion is a war
And it brings death like any other
It’s a fire that burns like steel,
And it consumes you like a lover
It consumes you like the burning heart of stars.

From the day I fell to earth below
The firmament of heaven
I sought silver for my my hand
Silver for my hand
But I was far from red and black, and from the stars
On the day I was betrayed and lost
The future I was promised
Fell like silver from my hand
Silver from my hand
And I cursed fates red and black and cursed the stars

But devotion is a war
And it brings death like any other
It’s a fire that burns like steel,
And it consumes you like a lover
It consumes you like the burning heart of stars.

On the night I learned to see anew
The firmament of heaven
You felt like silver in my hand
Silver in my hand
A source of joy that sang me to the stars
But in paths beyond my dreams
There it was, at last, unlooked for
There was silver in my hand
A blade of silver in my hand
And I was called to fight for freedom and the stars
I was called to give my freedom for the stars

But devotion is a war
And it brings death like any other
It’s a fire that burns like steel,
And it consumes you like a lover
It consumes you like the burning heart of stars.

From the moment I was born upon
The firmament of heaven
My devotion ruled my hand
Ruled the silver in my hand
Until at last I saw the colours of the stars

Devotion is a war
And it brings death like any other
In its tattered last defeat
I learned to see a thousand colours
And I learned to see the light between the stars
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #333 on: December 24, 2023, 11:43:24 PM »
Three Lost Kings

All:
We Three Kings of Orient are,
Stuck behind a family car,
Satnav broken,
Harsh words spoken,
Shouldn’t have gone this far…

By car we wander, day or night,
Destination out of sight,
Map misleading,
Still proceeding,
Ever more in transport plight.


Gaspard (Gold):
I went by a Southwestern Train,
Rail strikes delayed us again,
Moving never,
Here forever,
Driving us all insane.
Refrain

Melchior (Frankincense):
I then thought it better to fly,.
RyanAir but best not to try:
My case and things,
Have reached Beijing while
I’m stuck in security.
Refrain

Balthazar (Myrrh):
This bus smells of sweat and perfume,
Wish my legs were given more room,
Children bawling,
Caterwauling,
Seven more hours still loom…
Refrain

All:
Uber feels like rolling the dice,
Taxis come at triple the price;
In this disaster,
Walking’s faster,
We’ll find our way by the skies,

By foot we wander, through the night,
No-one thought to bring a light,
Hope's receding,
For believing in
Travel plans that go alright!

The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Eadgifu the Fair

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #334 on: December 25, 2023, 05:49:28 PM »
I love it! The Southwestern train part is all too real...
By the way, is the idea that one fills in "train" or "air" or "bus" in place of "car" in each chorus?

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #335 on: December 25, 2023, 05:54:37 PM »
I've been singing it with car repeatedly, to more closely replace star in the original, but actually that might be a good plan. I wholeheartedly endorse all alternative approaches to this issue!
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Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #336 on: January 18, 2024, 08:35:09 PM »
Raise the Tide

The black flag she sailed,
Am                    Em
And who was she then? Raise the tide!
      Am                     G                        Am
A harbinger, shapeshifter, warrior queen,
   C                  G                      Am        Em
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise.
 Am                     Em            E                Am
The black flag she sailed,
And who was she then? Raise the tide!
A harbinger, shapeshifter, warrior queen,
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise.

The trident he bore,
And who was she then? Raise the tide!
She saw him, pursued him, on salt wave and shore,
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise.

A gull she became,
And who was she then? Raise the tide!
Under salt spray and water he dived in the wave,
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise.

Then as a crab she swam,
And who was she then? Raise the tide!
To catch and to claim him, but swifter he ran
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise

Her iron teeth she grew,
And who was she then? Raise the tide!
She the shark, he the flood, and his trident was true
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise.

The trident of the sea,
And who was she then? Raise the tide!
It’s love, salt and war, and a spear of all three,
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise!

The black flag they sailed,
And who were they then? Raise the tide!
The iron will rust and the lover will rest,
When she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise
And the flood carries onward the ones who sail best,
And she’s all aboard, the sails shall rise!



This was originally written entitled "The Passion of the Trident" for a competition run by the Wagadu Chronicles game team, a competition it did rather poorly in, coming solidly bottom half of the table (in that there were four entries and it was neither winner nor runner up). Hopefully other people enjoy it in any case. In case of interest, the prompt given is as per spoiler tagged section below:
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #337 on: March 09, 2024, 01:30:13 PM »
The Lost Child of Amberlea

And to tell you the truth, I never met the lost child of Amberlea:
Her face is unknown to me, and the fullness of her fate is unwritten to me.
I know only what the wind told me,
What the shrubs and the rocks and the scree-stone slopes said to me,
And that is all.

It seems plausible
That in some grey office someone tapped some figures into a spreadsheet
And it is possible that a consequent two percent in- or de-crease in some rate of tax or benefit
That was a lifeline or a burden upon some particular character in our tale
Broke something that could not be repaired, for example the façade of society,
And that if that had all not happened, well, then when the numbers turned into a story
We could have told a rather different tale -
But that is speculation,
And unworthy of the wise, they say:
And I know only what the dune-grass held for me,
The news the waves and salt spray brought to me,
The cry of the crashing of the sea upon a stone-swept beach,
And the squall.

And I could believe, when considering the lost child of Amberlea,
That the impact upon others might not have been taken into full and proper consideration
When the child made decisions that were not only central to her fate alone
But rippled along networks, node and edge and weight clicking other fates neatly into place
And perhaps, never taught to see the table joins connecting these little data points of humanity
Certain words were said or left unsaid that greatly influenced the emotional and thereafter social
Status of those present in ways that had impacts described in some subsequent report as regrettable
But that is imagination,
A painting of the mind that imparts false colour into monochrome for the sake of building hopes and fears thereupon;
And I know only what the rain hurled at me
What the sleet and the driving heat of the all too burning sun cursed at me,
What the thaw promised to me, and the first chill of autumn etched into me with every leaf
That fell.

And I am almost led to wonder,
In what way one might envisage the future if such events happened, and did not happen:
What the deletion of a table row and the closure of a bank account barely used
On the glare of a monitor, in technical infrastructures we would like to think are crisply inhuman
(And are more deeply human than we could ever wish to know or admit)
Might cause us to adjust or realign in our considerations and, if the answer is nothing,
Whether there will be more and more such children as the central, aforementioned, eponymous
And more and more such contemplations as the present considerations here presented
But that is prognostication
Where the thoughts of men and women go to fly the flights of Icarus and Kay-Kavus,
And I know only what the mud-puddles murmured to me,
What reed and rush and rhizomes wrapped in eternity whispered to me,
What the open sky above sunken earth made clear to me,
Through the clouds

And so may well you wonder why
I sit here late to pontificate upon the fate
Of the lost child of Amberlea?
It is because I know what the breeze sang to me,
What the pine and birch and ash creaked to me,
Yes, I know what all the songs of the earth told me -
They said that she loved, but could not love enough:
And that she was loved, but was not loved enough.
And that?
That is all.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #338 on: March 31, 2024, 02:56:23 PM »
Upon The Matter Of The Ankylosaurus

Of all the mesozoic beasts on whom we might converse,
There’s often a debate on which is better and which worse –
An argument that I intend to settle with this rhyme,
Or at least to say my piece on tails as old as time,
A tail, I’d say, that’s better when it’s swinging like a mace,
A strong sure-footed opt-out to the pressures of the race,
With heavy foot and armoured back protecting all the rest,
It seems to me the clearest thing – ankylosaurs are best.

The theropods are mostly wrecks and not my cup of tea,
Icthyosaurs are icky and they never leave the sea,
And though may roar the stegosaur, I won’t be thagomised,
By a barely armoured plodding beast whose brain is walnut sized.
And meager too the thinking caps of those who blithely chorus,
Their hard bone-headed preference for Pachycephalosaurus,
Iguanadon only gets mere thumbs up for its great fame,
And Plesiosaurs are never quite as pleasing as their name.

Ceratopsians can try but they never will succeed,
And Compsognathus’ status is as low as chicken feed,
Brachiosaurus’ converse issue’s simply being too big,
So loses points because its bones take far too long to dig:
Even Allosaurus’ allocated allies all admit,
It’d play a second fiddle if it’s arms weren’t short as sh*t,
I’d need larger turning circles to give diplodocus a whirl
And velociraptors? They aren’t even her- oh, clever girl…

But cleverer by half the one who does not break or bend:
For it’s ankylosaurus who’s left standing in the end
I talk about them in the lift,
I speak of them on dates,
I fear no reprisal thanks to bony armour plates
And so I must invite you now
To come and join the club,
That’s swinging from their heavy tail where others have a stub
The pace and heat of this debate’s
An argument for those,
Who shun the speed of human life and live in slow repose

For far too fast the Parasaurolophus must have run,
To need their skull in aerofoils – and yet they haven’t won,
The hearts of men, nor Gallimimus racing in a band,
Although to think that they would win would need heads in the sand.
Pterosaurs’ ptaxonomic pterror’s their downfall -
For pterosaurs, you see, aren’t really dinosaurs at all
And mammals? With their mammaries? Oh please don’t get me wrong:
I personally like them – but I don’t think they’ll catch on.

So when you ask my preferences, my banners show unfurled,
A beast that can ignore the petty squabbles of the world
For when all that’s around has gone to ruin and to rot,
An armour-plated tank-o-saur’s no need to care a jot.
No need to care for credit cards, for capital or tax
When osteodermal nodes can give you fully armoured backs,
So panic less and think some more, we’ll soon be all agreed
Upon ankylosaurus: it’s the dinosaur we need.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...